


Remnants of Humanity

by fluffyfg



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Book Spoilers, Gen, Lost Memories, Mostly based on the books, Nightmare King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffyfg/pseuds/fluffyfg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch believes his humanity is a weakness. But even a weakened Nightmare King is dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remnants of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> Translated from German, so there are probably a few errors. If you find any, feel free to point them out.

 

Pitch is not exactly at his best when he first meets her (if being kidnapped can be called 'meeting'). Of course he knows of her existence, as he knows of the Man in the Moon. Her influence can be seen everywhere, in the change of the seasons, in the movements of earth and air, in the life and death of every living being. Mother Nature is old, as old as the moon, maybe even as old as Pitch himself. As long as he can remember, she has been there. But her sphere is way beyond his own. He is not interested in her domain, and he has assumed that inversely neither is she interested in his. She has always kept out of all conflicts, a neutral party on this planet.  
  
Why she has decided to interfere now of all times, he does not know. She has taken him away in the moment of his defeat, one could almost say she has saved him. He harbours no illusions that his enemies would have spared him this time. But just because he owes her does not mean, that he'll bow to _her_! Especially not without a fight! Pitch is still powerful, despite this weakness inside him, this leftover piece of humanity, that is making him _feel_ things! He has no idea what she has done with the girl – Katherine, Ombric's ward, who has woken this weakness in him. He does not know which side Mother Nature truly favours. But if she believes to control the Nightmare King, she is wrong! Whatever her motives, he won't make things easy for her!  
  
Readily the shadows heed his call. Fearlings and Nightmare Men gather around him, returning to him a feeling of strength. Many have fallen in the battle against these so called 'Guardians', but it takes much more to destroy his army. Creatures of fear and shadow they are, and these two ingredients can never be exhausted.  
  
Mother Nature is not impressed. There is not even a glimpse of fear in her amber eyes. Her raven hair blows in the raging elements. She is grim, powerful, and beautiful, and despite himself Pitch is impressed. The vision of her stirs something inside him, emotions he can't name. _A hope... a longing..._ No! He is the Nightmare King, destroyer of worlds! These feelings are a weakness, he has sworn to destroy! A curse gnawing and eating at him.  
  
Though Mother Nature does not show fear, Pitch knows that it is there. Everyone fears something. It is the one thing no one can hide from him. But while he can feel fears coming from her, he cannot read them. As if she has found a way to block him. Or as if a part of himself does not want to recognize them... This worries him more than he likes to admit.  
  
 _„What is it you want?“_ , he finally asks. He does not wish to fight her if he can avoid it. Weakened as he is, he is not sure he would win. She is powerful he knows, he has probably not even seen a fraction of her powers yet.  
  
 _„The locket. Give it to me!“_ Her voice is changing, gentle and soft, firm and unyielding at the same time.  
  
The locket. The blasted locket, that started everything. The symbol of his weakness, a reminder that a part of him was once human. And still is.  
  
Almost unconsciously he lifts the hand which is grasping the hated yet cherished object. Both of them stare at it. The hand and almost all of his arm are human, flesh and blood. Like a wound it is spreading, appearing strangely colourful and solid compared to the grey rest of him. He should be happy about the chance to get rid of the thing! It is obviously poisoning him! But he cannot let go of it. The locket is everything he still has of _her_. A part of him refuses to give it up, despite his efforts too repress that part. The nearly completely destroyed picture inside the trinket attests to his attempts, but his hope, without a picture to hold onto the feelings would disappear, has not been fulfilled.  
  
Pitch is unable to interpret the expression in Mother Nature's eyes when she looks at him. Fear he knows, but that is not what he is dealing with here (and he still can't read hers anyway). He recognizes doubt, but there is more...  
  
She steps closer. But when she reaches out for his hand, he recoils, hides his arm with the locket under his cloak once again. __  
  
„Why should I?“ he says _„It is mine!“_  
  
A weakness it may be, but it is _his_ weakness! She has no right to ask for it!  
  
Mother Nature's features harden. _„It is not! The man it belonged to has been gone for a long time!“_  
  
 _„Then what does it matter?“_ he coldly replies.  
  
 _„It matters to me! Give it to me!“_ There is an almost pleading undertone to her voice. But the Nightmare King cannot be moved. __  
  
„No.“  
  
Just this one word. He has made his choice. Nothing she says will change his decision. If she wants it, she has to fight for it.  
  
For a moment she is completely still. Even the elements around her fall silent. Not even a breath of air stirs. Then suddenly without warning she strikes.  
  
A storm tears at him with the force of a hurricane, while roots breaking from the earth start to wind around his legs. Just in time he flees into the shadows, becoming nearly intangible. But he will not retreat without a fight. He signals his army to attack. A little distance behind her he steps out of the shadows. Observantly he watches the fight, diligently looking for a possible weakness in his opponent.  
  
But as Mother Nature's powers cannot harm him while he is in his element, as little is she in danger of getting hurt by his servants while she is in hers. Nature is unleashed and none of his Fearlings and Nightmare Men even get close to her. Lightning flashes across the skies, the storm rages, the earth trembles. Hailstones as large as fists rain down on his forces. Fear and Shadow they may be, but outside of the darkness they are vulnerable, and such forces they cannot resist. One by one they vanish and Pitch realizes that he cannot defeat Mother Nature this way.  
  
He is weak, too weak maybe for a direct confrontation, but the element of surprise is on his side. She is completely immersed in the fight against his servants, not expecting his attack. Astonishment flashes in her eyes before his darkness closes about her, engulfing both of them entirely. Cut off from the source of her power she is weak, only a shadow of her original strength (and shadows he knows). Suddenly he has the upper hand. She is at his mercy, he has her in his grip, and this thought wrenches a triumphant laugh from him. After all the setbacks he has had to endure, it is a wonderful feeling!  
  
All the things he could do to her... Why settle for a Fearling Princess? She could be so much more than that! A Nightmare Queen! Her powers and his... together they would be unstoppable, a force the world has never seen before! He could make her one of his own, transform her. The power to do so is his, and she cannot stop him. Not here. Not now. And she knows it. There it finally is, the fear... So delicious... _  
  
_But when he looks into her amber eyes, he sees more than fear. There is also pain. A pain, that touches something in him, that causes a similar pain _inside him_ , and emotions, long thought forgotten, begin to emerge, gripping him. _Regret... desperation... longing..._  
  
It would be so easy to change her! He simply has to reach out, to touch her, to let his shadows pour into her to in order to corrupt her. Only inches separate him from her. She does not beg, does not plead, just looks at him resigned, with this pain in her eyes and something else... an emotion he has no name for.  
  
Pitch cannot do it. Something inside him stops him, refuses. He is fighting against himself and he is losing. Sadness and pain threaten to overpower him. Slowly he lowers his hand. Instead he lifts the other, the human hand still holding the locket. He extends it to her, opens it, offers her the trinket. Why he does so, he himself does not know, but he is no longer completely in control of himself.  
  
At first she continues to look at him, surprised, disbelieving, hopeful? Then her hand reaches for his. She takes the locket and for a short moment their hands touch. A familiar feeling shoots through him, but it is over too fast to waken memories. All that remains is the strange thought that he knows her – has known her – that this is not their first meeting, that this situation is _wrong_ , that she is not supposed to fear him! But it does not make sense at all, because he is the Nightmare King, the embodiment of fear. _Everyone_ is supposed to fear him! And suddenly he is the one who is afraid. Afraid of himself, afraid of these e _motions_ he can't control, afraid of her and of what her mere presence is doing to him.  
  
He does the only thing that remains, the only thing that still makes sense to him: he flees. The shadow readily take him in, offer both protection and solace. Pitch does not know how long he dwells in them, hurrying from place to place, away from her. Finally he appears in the middle of nowhere. Alone. He breathes hard. Strange shivers shake his whole body. There is something on his face. When he lifts his hand, he feels wetness. But how can this be? The night is dry, no rain or fog to wet his face. He shakes his head and wipes away the wetness.  
  
For a long time he simply stands there, letting darkness wash over him. Waiting for his breathing to calm, for his control of himself to return. He looks at his 'infected' arm and a surprised noise escapes him. The colour of flesh is receding, grey is returning. Relief sweeps through him. And also, strangely, wistfulness.

 


End file.
